black lampshade


(Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader)

Word Count: 6033

Request/Summary: No request! (again…). Based off of Ed Sheeran’s Happier

Warnings: Brief diet smut, drinking because of emotional pain, way too many Dirty Dancing references (may or may not have been watching it while writing…)  angst, cussing.

Tagging: @satans-little-midgets @imagineham (extra special thanks to Steph for helping me with the title) @gwynstacee  @bleepblopbloop56 aaannnddd thanks to @hamilton-noodles most of this fic exists, so thanks, Jo.


Side note- Italics is the past, regular is the present. The present is organized linearly and the past is ambiguous to any specific order.

“Good morning.” Oak’s voice crackled as if he was speaking to you through a phone somewhere with bad reception, still coarse from his full night of sleep. You smiled. You couldn’t be mad at him for waking you up. You couldn’t be mad when he whispered in your ear like that. When you were encased in those big arms of his. When it was just cold enough in the room for you to want to stay close to him and under the mess of covers.

“Good morning.” You muttered back. You didn’t want to leave this moment behind. Not when he had his body wrapped around you, his breath against your skin, the room smelling just slightly of coffee, the covers soft against your skin, not when you were feeling like you were sinking into the mattress more and more with every passing second. You rolled over in his arms, your fingers finding the smooth polyester fabric of his navy colored t-shirt. You fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

“I don’t want to get out of bed.” You told him, inhaling the scent of his chest- lavender, just like the soap bar you kept in the shower… for yourself.

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This isn’t a bad toy, Damian.

Batman #16 has this incredibly funny scene where Bruce meets with Dick, Jason, Damian and Duke in a Batman-themed restaurant, where meals are named after supervillains and members of bat-family. Which is exactly as funny as you’d have guessed. Although it, alongside some other things just makes me wonder if a large part of Gotham aren’t just some extreme case of misery tourists who treat this whole “supervillains everywhere” thing as an attraction. Anyway, back to the scene. Bruce needs five days to make Psycho-Pirate undo what he did to Gotham Girl and Bane wants the guy back, since his powers can temporarily help fight his Venom addiction. Since Bane will do anything to get the Pirate, Bruce wants everyone close to him out of Gotham. While plot-wise it’s a very standard scene of “An enemy I actually dread is coming, stay out of it”, only this time it’s Bane, not Joker (which is good, I like Bane), the character interactions are spot-on. Damian and Jason killed me with laughter several times over few two pages. The entire scene is grounded in Tim’s death, setting a strong motivation for Bruce to insist on his other sons to stay away from it, as opposed to just trying to hype up Joker because…Joker. Duke actually decides to sit this one out, which almost feels like he is lampshading on “black guy in a horror movie” clichés. But seeing how he is the only one of the four who haven’t at any point die…

Speaking of which, last page has a rather cheap shock-moment where we’re supposed to believe Bane hanged Dick, Jasonand Damian…yeah, not buying that, guys. Fooled me with Tim, but I won’t believe DC would let King kill characters that have together 4 books. Plus, we know they’ll keep showing up in them. The real shocker here is someone actually remembering Bane knows Bruce Wayne is Batman.

skyfaeries-deactivated20170722  asked:

n my story i have a black girl who uses fire magic. she can be a bit hot-headed, but this isnt a main characteristic - her use of fire is more in ref to her recklessness rather than anger. is she still in danger of being an angry black woman? thanks!

Black Girl, Fire Powers, and Avoiding the “Angry Black Woman” Association

As long as you’re clearly (keyword: clearly) not correlating her power to anger, this should be fine. I would be mindful of her hotheadedness, though. What makes her hot headed? What sparks this, what frustrates her? Is it related to her upbringing? Is she sensitive? is it a defense mechanism? 

If she’s snapping all the time for no apparent reason besides it just being the way she is, that does translate to me as “Angry Black Woman.”

You’ve only shared that this character is hotheaded and reckless. Though i’m sure there’s much more to her, i’ll still remind you to expand upon her beyond these traits. I do feel exploring a Black character’s anger and the validity of it would be an interesting topic for addressing, though, particularly by someone in the community.

Regarding her fire powers as the potential association to anger, Najela has some good notes on avoiding lampshading which applies here. 

Check out Biracial with Elemental Powers and Negative Connotations.

~Mod Colette

Hi my name is Blue Sargent and I have a blue aura (that’s how I got my name) and spiky ebony black hair that’s long enough to pull back but short enough that it requires clips to do so successfully and a lot of people tell me I look like the Page of Cups (AN: if u don’t know who that is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Richard Gansey III but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m from a family of psychics but I’m not actually one. I just make things louder for them. I’m also destined to kill my true love, and I go to a public school called Mountain View High where I’m a junior (I’m seventeen). I’m a trashy chick eccentric (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love lampshades and I sometimes wear clothes that look like them and anything that I’ve handmade myself. For example today I was wearing a few thin layering shirts, including one I had altered using a method called shredding. I was wearing an uneven ponytail with escaped chunks of hair and mismatched clips. I was walking outside Aglionby Academy. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Raven Boys stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Pink and Purple” - Kurt/Blaine

“You are incredible, you know that? With or without the superpowers.”
“Superpowers…” Blaine echoes, shaking his head as he looks down at himself. “Is that what we’re calling them?” 

(At several readers’ request, and because I’m in love with Nightbird forever and always, here is a prequel of sorts to ”Black and Blue“ (READ THAT FIRST), in which Blaine has discovered that he actually has superpowers and becomes the hero of New York City. Because every superhero has an origin story.)

Warnings for: accidental roughness, and also purposeful sex-related roughness

~6,000 words | read on AO3

“Babe, have you seen my bowtie?”

“That’s like asking if I’ve ever seen a pigeon in New York.”

Kurt finally looks up from his laptop when Blaine is silent in response, glaring at him under furrowed eyebrows. “Okay, sorry,” he laughs. “Which bowtie, honey?”

“Pink, white, and purple plaid. It goes perfectly with—“ Blaine gestures at his pink polo and dark purple pants, then continues rifling through his dresser.

“The one you wore two days ago with the—”

“—white button-up and pink chinos, yes.”

“Well, it can’t have gotten far…” Kurt racks his brain, trying to remember. They’d met up for dinner after their classes, then came home and— “I threw it at the bed when I took your clothes off.”

“Oh! Let me see if it’s…” Blaine gets down on the floor, lying on his stomach, then lifts the duvet so he can check under the bed. “Good thing we clean regularly… oh, I see it! It’s—ugh, I can’t reach it.” Blaine starts trying to squeeze himself under the bed.

Kurt snorts at the sight of Blaine’s ass wiggling around as he moves. He’s about to ask if Blaine needs help when—

“AAAH!” The foot of the bed suddenly lifts, throwing Kurt backwards and wedging him between the pillows and the wall. He catches his laptop before it can slide back and hit him in the face, but just as he’s attempting to right himself, the head of the bed lifts too, the whole thing rising in the air with him still on it. “Blaine?!” 

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ocarinaofcats  asked:

oo for the signs of affection prompt meme thing could you do 20 and 9 for billdip? ^^

Signs of Affection

(”I’ll try to keep things short,” she says. FORTY-SEVEN HUNDRED WORDS LATER …!)


(Enjoy my rampant sinning, regardless.)

No. 20: A Confession

No. 9: A First Kiss

Links: [ArchiveOfOurOwn], [FanFiction]

Prompt:  Imagine Person A of your OTP getting very drunk and confessing their attraction to Person B, but Person B isn’t sure how seriously they should take the confession when A is so utterly inebriated.

The rave music coming from the apartment could be heard several miles down the street. Being so close to the source did strange things to Dipper’s ears. He stood in front of the door, clenching a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Colored lights poured from underneath the door and he could hear loud conversations through the walls. Thank God I don’t live in this building. I’m amazed nobody called the cops yet.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper brought the piece of paper up to eye level. YOU ARE HEARBY HEREBY INVITED! it declared, alongside several drawings of cake, balloons, and animal parts. The invitation went on to provide an address, time, and a description of the party, using such words as FUCKING FANTABULOUS, MIND-BLOWING, and YOUR FACE WILL LITERALLY MELT OFF.

Dipper had certainly seen better invitations. But then again, this was the first invitation to a party Dipper’s ever received. At least, in his entire three years of college. In fact, he would have thought it was for his roommate if there weren’t a fat DIPPER PINES written on the envelope. The invite had appeared a few days ago, slipped underneath his doorway. When he went outside to check, there was nobody there.

Part of him didn’t even know if he should go to this party. He wasn’t much of a ‘party’ kind of guy, even if he was a little jealous of Mabel’s night hopping popularity. They’re just so … loud. He didn’t belong in that kind of life.

Mabel was able to convince him otherwise, though.

Somebody wants you there, Dip,’ she had said over the phone. ‘You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, right?

Well … that’s true …

So there he stood, Saturday night at midnight, in front of apartment number 216. Truth be told, he was relieved that there was actually a party here at all. A small part of him figured this was all some sort of elaborate prank to embarrass him. Looks like I was just being paranoid again, he figured, raising his fist, hovering over the door. Should he knock? He did have an invitation, but … I should knock. But, can’t I …? No, I should just knock.

He knocked and waited. A few seconds passed and his stomach tightened. Crap, it’s not like anybody’s going to hear that. Should I try again? No, I’ll just open it …

As he reached for the handle, however, the door swung open. Standing on the other side was …

An instantaneous heat crawled up Dipper’s neck and he flushed. His palms became sweaty and his stomach started jumping through knotted hoops.


The college senior stood in the doorway, wearing a black lampshade for a hat and holding a red cup in his hand. His hoodie was inside out and backward. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness before a wide, maniac smile split his face.

Pine Tree! You made it!” he said, brushing off the lampshade. Dipper blinked, the surprise appearance of his crush throwing him through a complete and devastating loop.

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